Once Upon a Tome: The Little Mermaid

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CHAPTER ONE

            “So, Princess Aria of the kingdom Under-Sea, it has been ruled that you will be banished from your native country for the remainder of your days.”

            “Banished?”  I managed to sob.

            The Queen—my mother!—only bowed her head.  Father—His Majesty King Triton IV—showed no sign of sorrow or fear.  It was as I expected; the charges had been presented, and the Queen had ruled in a way best for her people.  Yet, though I had anticipated this outcome, even this sentence, I cried out as the guards swam up to shackle me.

            “Papa!  Mama!”  I screamed.  Neither looked my direction; neither even blinked their recognition as their eldest daughter, the one-time Heir Apparent, was dragged away, caught in the shame of a net.

            And people think it’s easy, being a princess.

My memories of those first few days on land are hazy at best.  The only things I can clearly recall are the terror and shame of my arrival, the pain in my new, burning legs, and a desperate desire to escape my rescuers so that I might search the Under-Sky for the man who had torn me from my people.  I would be avenged.  And then I would re-claim my kingdom and the love of my people.

I must sound power-hungry, perhaps even dangerous, to you.  I assure you, I am neither.  But I’d spent eighteen years as a princess—and not just any princess, but the princess most likely to become Queen of the sea.  All of the merfolk were my responsibility; I had been taught that from the moment I hatched.  Now, ripped from them, I felt that I had left my heart behind in Under-Sea, the last protection I could give them.

No.  Not the last.  I refused that it would be the last.  Somehow, I was going to find the real villain, and return him to the Under-Sea, to King Triton, for justice.  Somehow.

Merfolk are magical creatures.  We can breathe water or air equally well, although some would call that the gift of our anatomy.  We can also produce sound under water, though, and humans, at least, believe that this is a gift of magic.  We feel that it is natural, like humans whistling on their way down the beach.  There are a few other things that set us apart from the non-magic folk of the world; I will tell you of them when the time is right.

            The point I was trying to reach, though, was this:  Merfolk have the ability to speak or even sing beneath water.  But to use those same muscles and  movements of the body and mouth above water  would produce something utterly unlike human speech.  So in my quest for the real perpetrator of my purported crimes, I would have to communicate through other means.  There was a gesture-based  language often used among Merfolk—our audible communication is pervasive, and sometimes we prefer discression—in which I was fully fluent.  Perhaps if I could teach it to a human friend, she might help me find my way.

Which brings me to another point of trouble.  Humans.  I knew there was some long-standing hatred between my people and theirs, but even taking the stories I’d heard with a large drink of salt, I was still frightened by humanity.  Where would I find such a friend?

As I have mentioned, I was surrounded—carried, in fact—by human rescuers.  They have come across my naked body as I lay in the sand, boiling under their sun.  How long I had laid there I did not know, but my flesh ached, its pallor exposed too long to the harsh light.

I would later learn that I burned with what the humans called a fever.  Among my people, it was known as the sun-sickness.  Regardless of the ailment’s name, it left me dizzy and confused.  I was barely aware of the strong arms that carried me, the rhythm of footfalls jostling my body at every moment.  All I knew was pain, and sorrow at some tragedy I could not quite remember.

I recall at last the sound of voices, a dimming of the light, and finally a coolness wrapped around my skin, applied to my forehead.  Water was brought to my lips and I truly drank for the first time, spilling the liquid in eagerness and incoordination.  Finally, the strength left in me failed.  I collapsed, sinking into the softness beneath me.  I did not awake for a very long time.

“Princess Aria?”  A hesitant voice sounded quietly in my ears.  I flipped, then turned right-side up.  A young-looking citizen floated at an angle, his head bowed in respect.

“Yes?”  I asked simply.

“You left the Swim.”

“Yes,” I replied again, wary this time.

“I wondered if I might accompany you home.  For—for your safety.”

I restrained a derisive laugh.  This poorly muscled merchild would offer me little protection.  Then again, Mother often advised that I make personal connections among the people, regardless of class or physical features. The boy could certainly not hurt me.

“Very well,” I said graciously.  “I thank you for your consideration.  I accept your offer.”

“My lady?”  A soft voice made strange sounds that, at first, I could not comprehend.  I struggled out of the darkness, fighting to reach the voice, desperate to right whatever wrong hovered just beyond my subconscious awareness.  The voice came again.  This time, I realized that it was female.

“She’s waking.”  It said simply.  A slight rustling—how many noises there were here!—came in answer.

I began to perceive the bright light streaming through my thin eyelids.  I groaned softly and turned my head away.  My skin brushed against something rough, and I gasped in pain, my eyes finally opening in shock.

“My lady!”  Exclaimed the woman who had spoken before as she rushed to my side.

I could not make sense of my surroundings.  My eyes and mouth felt dry, and I neither tasted nor saw the waters of my home.  My breathing was too warm, burning in my lungs, and my skin felt stretched and brittle.  I looked around wildly, eyes finally resting on my own body.  I was dressed in an unfamiliar covering, but the hair tumbling onto it was familiar.  And there—what was that thing?  Like a hand, but a raw, red color, unlike the glossy white of my own skin.  I flexed my fingers and the thing moved.  It was my hand!  I gasped again, panic rising.

A gentle but firm hand pushed me back against the bed.  I looked up, straight into the eyes of the woman tending me.  I tried to speak, but the sound came out in a massive croak.

“Hush, my lady,” said the voice.  She meant to be comforting, but her alien sounds only heightened my sense of fear.  Dizziness was replaced with the sharpness of terror.

Finally, I remembered where I was.  Though my memories blurred together, I understood that I was in the Under-Sky, on land.  Banished from the country of my youth, I was trapped among the barbarian animals who walked like kings in the open air.

The moment this realization formed in my mind, my vision began to swim again.  I closed my eyes to block out the images and fell back, deep, into blackness.

“Where will you go, Aria?”  My youngest sister wailed.  I did not trust my voice, afraid of the choking sounds of sorrow.  Instead, I gestured to her.

“I will find the real criminal,” I said with my hands.  She screwed up her eyes against this reality, as though failing to see the truth would change it.  I flitted to her side, reaching out to gather her into my arms.  In an instant, my bodyguards yanked back on my leash, and I was dragged back from Cresenda, arms still reaching toward her in a hopeless gesture.  My sister wailed.

The next time I woke, it was because of the sounds.  A crunching from below me.  A scraping from behind.  Chatter filtered in from all directions, and a bell sounded in the distance.  There was a rattle just beside my ear, and I rolled away from it, striking my head against the wall and making yet another irritating sound.  My skin ached, pressed as it was against the sheets.

I opened my eyes, staring at the stone wall against which I had hit my head.  I raised a hand to the injured spot and was filled with a sick sensation; my flesh was still the color of coral.  Resting my fingers against the damaged spot on my head, trying to assesjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjs the severity of my injury, I turned onto my back once more.

Shifting my head to the side, I could see the startled maid who had woken me.  She stammered, forming no intelligible words, until the woman I had seen before rushed into my room and stood by my sickbed.

            “My lady, you are awake,” she said.  I nodded, not wanting to try—and fail—to speak.  The movement scraped my face, and I froze where I was in pain.

“The Prince would like to speak with you when you are ready.  You are the center of a great mystery here.”

Now that I was properly awake, I knew what my mission in the Under-Sky entailed.  I would not waste time in the hands of a human prince.  Nor would I be able to tell him the truth—I was honor-bound to keep my people’s secrets.  I shook my head.

“My lady, you must still be fevered.  Rest, and your mind will return to you.”  I shook my head again, but closed my eyes.  I wanted the woman to leave me in peace, and guessed that feigning sleep was the only way to achieve that goal.  I pressed my face toward my pillow, filtering out the light, and fell into a natural, exhausted sleep.

I fear I was ungrateful to my rescuers when first we met.  I was so tired from my transformation, so afraid of the quest ahead of me, that I expressed little thanks and less kindness.  Thinking on those first days, I see the extraordinary effort that they put into bringing me back from the gates of Death.  I wish I had been kinder, more gracious, to them.  I am sorry that I was not.

As soon as my mind returned from its fevered confusion, I began to consider how to achieve my goals.  The man who had  betrayed me, betrayed us, would be difficult to recognize.  Indeed, I had no idea of how altered his appearance might be—it was not only possible, but likely, that his features would be entirely foreign to me.

Yet I had to start out.  Papa had always taught me that to complete a task, one had to first begin it.  So I would have to start my search, and soon.  Immediately, if possible.

Immediacy was not granted to me.

“Papa, what will I do if I am judged guilty?”

“Aria, my beloved child.  You will find a way to prove that ruling wrong.”

I wobbled.  I swayed.  I tipped forward and back again, trying to find my balance.  Finally, I collapsed into the waiting arms of my maid.

“That was much better, my lady,” she said.

I could only nod in thanks.

Two days had  passed since my fever broke; the first was spent in restorative sleep.  The second I continued in bed, listening to my nurse’s explanations and questions.  She held many of both.

Speech in this foreign land was impossible.  I had tried, driving myself nearly to sobs in frustration.  Despite the fact that I could understand the humans’ language—through some gift of magic that I could not understand, I supposed—I simply could not speak it.  Further, they barely understood my gestures, because the people in the palace did not use such a language.  In short, communication was hopeless.

I wanted to get away.  Despite my lavish surroundings (I assumed they were lavish, for I had been told that this was a palace, although it was different than my childhood home), I sought desperately for an escape.  But until I could travel more than a few yards under my own power, leaving was no option.

The difficulty came from my feet.  And from my legs, I suppose, but it was my feet which tangled and tripped beneath me.  Too cultured to curse at them, I glowered instead, letting my eyes express my emotion.